Forbidden Whispers
by stonys
Summary: With a battle to keep their romance forbidden on their hands, as well as the big war, Draco and Harry try to overcome the obstacles sent their way and repair any broken strings along the way, with Draco eventually pleading with the Dark Lord himself to spare the Chosen One's life.


**Disclaimer: The **_italics_ **are a flashback to when Draco and Harry first knew that they had some sort of ''spark''. I'll be elaborating on it once I know if people are actually gonna read this, it's just something I came up with while watching Deathly Hallows part 1, where they're captured by the Snatchers and taken to the Malfoy Manor. I'll also be referring to Deathly Hallows part 2, mainly when Harry saves Draco from the fiendfyre, and also to the deleted scene from the last movie, if you haven't already seen it. And it may possibly contain smut along the way, which is why I've rated it M.**

"Well? Is it him?"

The hiss of his aunt Bellatrix's voice hung in the air as she held onto the scruff of the young man's neck, the boy in question's face puffed up like it was covered in bee stings. Of course it was him. There was no doubt about it. The way the hair hung shoddily over his forehead, and the grunt he made as his aunt tugged his head back for a better view. That all too familiar grunt, for reasons of which he wasn't going to think about at the moment. Yes, it was him.

Harry Potter.

Harry Potter, the boy who lived. Harry Potter, the Chosen One. Harry Potter, the boy he'd secretly grown to love, and develop a relationship with in passing years. There was no way he could mistake that face for another, even with the Stinging Jinx blocking his view. Even with an eye the size of a golf ball, Harry managed to send shivers down his spine the way he stared at him. Longingly, nervously, as if pleading for a way out. There was no way he was going to help the boy formerly. That would give a lot more away than he wanted. But he'd find a way, he had to. With those eyes, burning into his skin, there was no way he could defy them.

Staring back into the pools of leaf green eyes that were bearing into his own, Draco inhaled deeply as he made to answer his aunt, only to be interrupted by the fact that she had spotted the Sword of Gryffindor hanging from one of the Snatchers' coat pockets. With the distraction of the now ongoing fight between his mother's sister and the rest of the Snatchers, the blond took hold of Harry's sleeve and dragged him to his feet, once again staying silent as he watched the boy momentarily. His grip tightening on the other's jacket, Draco glanced around them before he leaned in closer, the tip of his nose lightly pressed against Harry's as he whispered, "I'm sorry," before he then begrudgingly shoved him away and went to stand beside his mother, watching as the now injured Snatchers scurry out of sight, before seeing the Chosen One being dragged down to the cellar by the rat-faced Wormtail, his teeth grinding in agitation as he defied his own longing to go after Harry and save him. He couldn't. Not with his family present. To shame them would be to lose his pride and dignity completely, maybe even to lose his life, in retrospect. As much as he cared for Harry Potter, going after him would put his own life in danger, as well as his family's, and Harry's. Although, it could be argued that Harry's life couldn't get any more dangerous than it already was.

Around half hour had passed, and there were screams echoing through the air. The gut-wrenching screams of the muggleborn, laying sprawled out on the floor, like a piece of Bellatrix's trash, bearing the word 'mudblood' in blood on her arm, echoed through the room, along with the now screaming Bellatrix Lestrange, enraged at the behaviour of the Malfoys' former house elf. Draco had heard about Dobby. How unhappy he was with his family, and how Harry freed him. As much as he hated to admit it, he felt a small amount of sympathy for the elf. Anyone having to put up with his father's demands, and his cursing, were bound to suffer. It was chaos, and before he knew it, Harry was bolting towards him, Draco going rigid, without a clue what to do. Quickly, the other's hand lunged for the wand in the blond's hands, tugging it from Draco's grasp while shooting him the most vicious glare he'd ever seen on Harry, and Draco had seen his face once Snape killed Dumbledore.

"Harry-" The blond went to call, lifting an arm before being interrupted by a shove to the side.

"No." Harry replied bluntly before rushing over to the waiting house elf, as well as the small crowd of escapees now gathered around him. In a flash, the seven of them had disappeared upon apparation, along with the dagger his aunt had flung across the room not two seconds before. That meant it could have hit Harry.

It could have hit any of them, but Harry was different. Draco would never forgive himself if someone from his own family had caused the boy any harm. He hated to admit it, but the Chosen One had turned him… dare he say it, soft. It wasn't in his nature to be caring, or loving. Not while being brought up with a family like his own. The only person Draco really cared about was his mother. That was, until they'd stumbled upon each other in the Room of Requirement.

"_Harmonia Nectere Passus." Draco continued to whisper to the contraption in front of him after sending a bird off inside of it. Perfecting the Vanishing Cabinet was something he was desperate to do. Not only to prove to the Dark Lord himself that he could complete the task, but to keep him and his family from any harm. Even sometimes thinking about it made him heave. A lump would build in the back of his throat, like being strangled, and his insides would churn violently, causing him to have to sit down for a moment or two. He thought the deed too big, too responsible for a boy of his age to do, but if it meant his family's safety, his mother's safety, then nothing was going to stop him._

"_Harmonia Nectere Passus." The blond whispered once more, sitting up a little in his seat as he heard the sound from inside the cabinet, a lot like a teleport. Opening the door, his heart sank as he saw the dead bird laying on the bottom, its wings lifeless, its body still. No sign of movement whatsoever. With the feeling of hopelessness soon washing over him, Draco sank to the floor beside the cabinet and buried his face in his hands, shedding a few tears of frustration as he tugged roughly at the hair atop his head. Nothing was going his way, and nothing seemed to want to. He felt hopeless, stupid, undependable. All the negative descriptions he could think of. And he just sat there, crying, until he heard footsteps, quiet ones, slowly nearing closer to him._

_Jumping to his feet, Draco straightened out his jacket and looked up to see the culprit, his features stiffening into a glare as he saw Harry Potter standing before him._

"_What're you doing here, Potter?" He snapped as he slammed the cabinet door shut, standing in front of it as he turned back to face the other._

"_Could ask you the same thing. Missing your mummy are we, Malfoy?" Harry cooed in reply, a coy smirk crossing his features while doing so._

"_Piss off." The blond shot back, shoving past the dark haired boy as he made his way towards the door._

"_Must be something big to make you cry, Malfoy!" Harry called after him, a small hint of surprise, yet concern in his voice. Or maybe Draco just dreamt it. Nevertheless, he stopped in his tracks and slowly span on his heel to face the other._

"_Something like that." The blond muttered, glancing down at his feet. Why had he stopped? He didn't know. But something in Harry's voice made him want to stay, or maybe even want the company. "What's it to you?"_

"_Just never seen you cry before. It's weird, yet oddly satisfying." The dark haired one shrugged with a hearty chuckle, keeping his eyes on Malfoy as if searching for something. "Might I ask why?"_

_Draco grinded his teeth together as he stood still, his hands rubbing together in agitation. There was no way he could tell Potter exactly what he was doing. No. It would result in his family's death, and eventually, his own. Or maybe worse. God knows what Voldemort was capable of. "Just uh… stressed, that's all."_

_Harry nodded slowly. Even he found all this weird. Why was he concerned as to why Malfoy was crying? It was Malfoy, he'd have loved to make him cry. So why was he getting so bothered by it? "You know… I usually find stunning certain bits of flying furniture to be _very_ helpful to ease the stress." He suggested while stuffing his hands into his pockets, looking over at the blond, who returned the statement with a small smirk while pulling out his wand. _

"_Best watch out, then, Potter."_

Was Harry mad at him?

That was the question that was running through the blond's mind as he paced around the now trashed drawing room. Of course he was. To have given Draco such a horrific glare, he must have been absolutely livid. But for what? For not saving him? For not helping him? He couldn't help him. Harry was meant to be the enemy, and it was still confusing now, knowing that the pair of them were pretty much an item, after spending so much time being enemies, at each other's throats. He might never even know, considering he had no idea who Bellatrix's dagger had hit during their apparation. That would kill him. If Harry had gotten killed by his aunt, he would never be able to live the guilt down. He'd never forgive himself for not being there when he should have been. Even now, he wished he'd done something to help Harry escape. But as much as Draco knew it would eat away at him, only time would tell.


End file.
